The Langelaan Countermeasure
by DemonFox38
Summary: It was his fault that it had happened in the first place. He had to fix it. Still, does he have the conviction to kill his teammate, even if it will restore him to his old self? What monster was that poor man turning into?
1. Chapter 1

**The Langelaan Countermeasure**

* * *

><p>This was his fault. This was all his fault.<p>

The Engineer had only the best of intentions. It was supposed to be a better, faster, and sturdier machine. It had passed all other structural tests with flying colors. Why hadn't he checked it for that last possible problem? Probably because it was so damn rare that it could happen. Even if it did, it usually resulted in instant fatality. With all the other systems in place around here, death wasn't as big a deal. But this. This! His negligence had robbed a man of his humanity, had inflicted maddening pain and sorrow. He could fix this, but the cost—oh, God, the cost—

"What do you zink you are doing, laborer?"

The Engineer shot two feet up, like something had nipped him in the back. He almost dropped the heavy toolbox in his hands. Oh, no. He'd been found out. Worst of all, by the Spy. It wasn't that the Engineer was doing anything wrong at the moment, per say. He was simply loading his truck to—to—He didn't want to think about it. It was bad enough what he'd done. The guilt of what had to be done stuck in his throat.

He tried to cover his tracks. "O-oh. Good evenin', Spy. Never seen ya down here before."

"What can I say? You would never know if I were here at all." The Spy wrinkled his nose. It reeked of motor oil and sweat in the garage. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Just takin' a joy ride. Nice night n' all. Could use the fresh air to clean up my mind." The Engineer's leaden heart kept sliding down his chest, like it was going to fall out of his stomach. He felt nauseous, his knees weak. He just wanted to lie back down, sleep away this nightmare, and wake up refreshed the next morning. With coffee, toast, and jam. No malfunctioning equipment. No horrible accidents. No having to—dammit, why did he have to do this? His diaphragm was going to rip him apart from the inside out if he thought too long about it.

The Spy's eyes narrowed. He knew when he was being lied to. Lying was one of his special skills, and if anyone beneath him attempted to bluff him, he could catch them within seconds. The stocky man was frozen, trying to keep from shrinking away from the interrogating Frenchmen. The Spy smirked, his lips hovering just above his teeth. There was one way to determine what the Engineer was truly doing.

"Zen, you will not mind if I take a ride with you, no?" The Spy slid over to the passenger's side. He opened the door, slithering into the fabric-covered seats. What a tacky automobile. It gave off a strange odor of its own, fried plastic fumes coming off the dashboard. The ride of princes, no doubt.

The Engineer hesitated. No, no. He couldn't let the Spy see what he was going to do. None of his teammates should have to witness what he saw. His skin crawled at the memory of what he'd seen. Oh, he knew something was wrong. He just didn't understand how terrible his mistake was. Even worse, how much pain he was putting that poor bastard through. He chewed on the inside of his jaw. If he hadn't been so rash, he wouldn't have to lower himself to this.

A dark question taunted him. Could he do this? Did he think he could be so cold and cruel as to go perform this act? It never bothered him once to take the lives of the other team. Not one moment's hesitation. It certainly wouldn't be a permanent sin, by any means. The respawn machine would clean up his work, fix his problem. Still, it felt like betrayal, like having to shoot a rabid dog. No, worse. An inflicted human, one he'd infected. He couldn't get over that fact. Even now, he was trembling at the thought like a coward. Maybe he needed another man to steady his gun, hold him at knife-point until he did this deed. Keep him from running away.

His voice was dark, graveled. "If ya come with me, ya must not tell anyone what ya are about to see."

"Mais oui, laborer." The Spy gave the Engineer a slim smile with the second most chilling set of teeth he'd seen this week.

The Engineer stepped into his truck, already worn and defeated. The worst part of his night hadn't even begun yet. He opened the garage door, then turned the keys in the ignition. The truck grumbled, a low murmur filling up the dark night. With a shift of the stick, he set the truck in motion, his speed ponderous as he started down the lane. The sky was void of light, not even the moon rearing its face. Probably a storm coming through.

The Spy leaned back, kicking a leather shoe on the dash. "So. Now you may tell me what you are really going to do."

The Engineer's words fell out of his mouth like hot, heavy coals. "I'm gonna kill the Sniper."

* * *

><p>Much like Asimov's famous Laws of Robotics, there are a set of rules that must be upheld when constructing teleporters. All of them focus not so much on the speed or range of the teleporter, but on sparing the rider from a painful death from inappropriate coordinates or environmental hazards. The first rule was that there had to be a designated starting and ending point. If one or the other went missing, any potential subjects being teleported must be scattered to the four winds. The second one was that a teleporter's start and exit must not be placed in such a location as to cause harm to its travelers. The third one—the one that the Engineer had not tested against—stated that if the genetic similarity between a pre-rider and a post-rider is not ninety-eight percent similar, the subject needs immediate medical attention or to be euthanized as to spare it a horrible transformation. Most people didn't survive below the ninety-eight percent consistency anyway, but there was the rare occasion where it could happen.<p>

This last law is known as the Langelaan Countermeasure.

This new model had worked remarkable well, especially for the close-quarter struggles. It kept free of dust, was hardier, and even a touch faster. The Engineer hadn't even had to pay it much attention. The enemy Demoman was making short work of his sentries today, so he had bigger problems than to worry about some prototype that was still functioning. Besides, everybody else had passed just fine through it.

The Engineer always got little thanks as his teammates went through. Frankly, it was no big deal, but he liked the compliments. Perhaps he was a touch vain like that. The Heavy had passed through just fine, giving the Engineer a wide grin and a salutation as he continued his slaughter. So had the Soldier, his Demoman, the Heavy again, the Medic—everybody went through without a stitch of trouble. It was just one that had gone wrong, one that had started with a thankful message and ended with a strange, painful yowl. "Thanks for that, Truck-aagh!"

Well, normally the Engineer didn't pay too much attention to the howling and yelps around him, but this one caught him off guard. He slunk into the rickety building behind him, just to check on what had happened. After all, if an enemy Spy was killing his teammates at the teleporter, he might as well go give him a clunk on the head. It was just the Sniper, standing alone and checking his ankles.

"What's the matter, Stretch?" The Engineer looked at the Sniper's boots. The leather hadn't been torn, so he couldn't have been hurt down there.

The Sniper hissed. "Somethin' bit me. I'm sure it did."

The Engineer had tried to ease his mind. "Doesn't look like anythin' got past yer boots. Maybe ya should see the doc, though?"

"That quack's got better things to do than ta be looken' at every little knick I get." The Sniper had his pride in his self-reliance. It cost him his life on a couple of occasions, but it wasn't anything the Engineer could shake out of his skull. Besides, he was okay on his own. He relied on a little bit of solitary skulking. That still didn't mean that the Engineer would forget about his needs, though. The whole team had to be up and moving as long and as efficiently as possible if they wanted to win.

Still, he let his worries go. The Sniper was a grown man, after all. Better just to leave the Australian to his role than to ignore his own purpose. "All right. But ya get back here if yer feelin' sick, all right? Got a dispenser with yer name on it."

That earned him the Sniper's delayed gratitude. "Thanks, Dell."

With that, he'd just dropped it. Like it meant nothing. He had bigger things to deal with, after all. The enemy Soldier decided to blast his sentry to robot heaven, so there was more work to be done. There had been an odd scent in the air since that incident, though. Sort of like hot electronics and charred flesh. Well, it always smelt like that around the Pyro, but it wasn't burnt human skin. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, though.

Well, it didn't look like it had mattered all that much, anyway. There was only an hour left of their fighting for the day. He had a few accidents, but it wasn't anything the respawn machine couldn't fix. The Sniper must have done all right for himself. Certainly didn't get killed or respawned. Perhaps if he had, this problem wouldn't have festered and manifested. It was hard to say, particularly with how fickle the respawn generator acted.

He didn't realize it, but the Engineer had noticed the symptoms of the Sniper's teleporter accident that evening. It wasn't a grandiose display, either. The Sniper just wasn't hungry. That skinny bastard could go for days without eating if he wanted, but he usually ate supper with the group. He spent the entire meal staring at the peas and potatoes on his plate, confused and weary. Perhaps nobody else had noticed with the Scout's overblown accounts of his day, but it had caught the Engineer's eye.

Of course, there was a time and a place to ask about these things. A man didn't go forcing a diagnostic check on another man. Not unless they were a doctor, anyway. Still, after the meal was over, and the dishes were cleaned and put away, the Engineer went to check up on the Sniper. It was relatively easy, considering he lived in his van, parked the garage where the Texan did his work. Sometimes the Australian would even poke his head out and help him with little tasks. It was an odd arrangement, like having a wild tom living in a farm house. He did make for pleasing company, though.

The Engineer knocked on the Sniper's passenger door. "Mundy? Doin' okay?"

Usually, that would earn him entry into the van. All it got him that time was a muffled response. "'m foine. Tired."

Strange. It was only seven o'clock. Still, that was none of his business. So the Sniper wasn't talkative, wasn't hungry, and was overly tired. Maybe he'd had a taxing day. The Engineer tried to be as considerate as possible. After all, knowing when to leave people alone was a critical characteristic for any genteel Southerner. He gave the door a soft little pat. "All right. I'm gonna be worken' on things, but ya just let me know if I'm botherin' ya."

"G'night," was the last word he heard from the Sniper.

The Engineer worked into the middle of the night, repairing vehicles and redesigning his schematics. If he ever bothered the Sniper, he didn't know. The Australian probably slept through his racket. Again, the Engineer didn't pay it much mind. After all, he was a busy man with a lot of work ahead of him. He couldn't stop and fix every little problem that his teammates had, or he would never get anything done.

Still, he had to wonder about those teleporters he had used today. He gave them a quick glance, but he didn't find anything strange about them. There was a little dirt in the exit, a little smudge on the entrance. He cleaned and brushed debris out, then gave the wiring a good check. Everything seemed to be working. Whatever startled the Sniper must have been a one-time event. In any case, the Engineer tabled the new teleporter design, just in case there was some error he needed to replicate.

The horror didn't make itself clear to the Engineer until the Sniper tried to kill him the next day.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span>:

Is it just me, or is the Engineer's Frontier Flyboy attachment adorable? Not a big fan of the bug feet or the creepy fly mask, but those wings are precious.

One may ask why I keep writing stories where technology keeps screwing things up. I'm not a Luddite, swear to God. I program websites for a living. Still, I live in constant paranoia that I will forget to secure something properly, and then personal information will go flying out the door.

One may also look into why I feel I need to write stories where everybody's Captain Ahab-ing it up, but I think that's because I don't deal well with writing subtle threats.

Anyway. Intrigued? Amused? Let me know. I am to entertain.


	2. Chapter 2

"Un-fricken'-believable!"

The Engineer lifted his head, the Scout's words now distracting him from his cleaning. He tried to tidy up their safe rooms after their daily battles. Just a habit out of courtesy. What the Scout was doing poking around the computers, he didn't know. "What're ya fussin' about, String Bean?"

The Scout whacked his hand against a set of papers. "Look at this! Nine hours? Who the hell lives for nine hours straight?"

"Are you reading that right?" The Engineer abandoned his fussing to address the Scout's concerns. He took the report from the young man, crunching numbers in his head as he read through it. Nine hours? Impossible. That meant somebody didn't clock out for lunch. Yes, they might have had to kill each other all day, but they still got an hour for lunch. Even if that had been the case, it seemed unlikely that anyone could have survived that long. The Engineer's personal record was about an hour, and that was with a lot of creative hiding in Teufort. In Sawmill? During King of the Hill matches? That was impossible!

Yet, there it was. Nine hours, fifteen minutes, forty-five seconds, from eight in the morning until this report was printed. The Engineer scratched the back of his neck. Sure, the Sniper was a survivalist, but this was incredible. Even he could only go about ten, fifteen minutes before a Spy would catch up with him, or a Pyro would flush him out. His previous record had been a little over an hour. The data made no sense.

It got stranger as the Engineer kept reading. The Sniper's kills started high in the morning, but dropped in a slow bell curve towards noon. The afternoon was almost entirely devoid of kills. He started strong with a generous six to one headshot ratio, but that tanked halfway through the morning. No, this data had to be wrong. He reviewed everybody else's statistics, finding that they were about average. No strange anomalies there. Then why was the Sniper's score so strange? Had he been slacking off?

"Guess yer right," the Engineer mumbled. "That's got to be an error."

"If it's not, then holy crapoli. Hate to be the bastard that ran across him in a bad mood." The Scout jabbered on, less concerned about the accuracy of the data and more amused with it.

The Engineer handed the report back to the Scout. "Have you seen the Sniper today?"

The Scout shook his head. "Nope. Think he might be sick or somethin'? 'Cause, I don't wanna catch whatever crazy kangaroo virus he's got."

"I doubt it." The Engineer scrunched up his nose. He glanced outside of their base. The Sniper's van was still there. It wouldn't hurt to check up on him, considering how out of it he was last night. "Tell ya what. I'm gonna go find him."

The Scout nodded. "Yeah, sir, fine. Just don't screw around too long. Kinda want to hit up the burger joint before we head back to the base."

The Engineer chuckled. It wasn't so much the food that the kid was interested in. There was a cute little waitress that he'd been flirting with. Probably wanted to spend some more time with her, considering it was the weekend now and he wouldn't have to go anywhere in the morning. He gave the Scout a pat on the shoulder. "You've got it, little buddy."

"I. Hate. That. Nickname." The Scout huffed. "Just hurry your slow ass up, okay?"

Perhaps he should have taken the Scout along, but that may have only made the situation worse. Besides, there wasn't that much ground to cover in the old sawmill, anyway. The Engineer started by checking the Sniper's van, but it was obvious that he hadn't been in it for quite some time. The Engineer poked his head around the main point, then ducked in and out of buildings around the complex. No dice. He circled through once more, wondering what he was missing. He even snooped through the areas typically only open for Capture the Flag events. Still nothing. Where had he gotten to? Could he have broken into some abandoned portion of the mill buildings? Everything looked like it had been nailed in place, so what was he missing?

On returning to his team's base, he finally caught something out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps he wouldn't have even seen it if he hadn't been staring at his reflection in the puddles. There was a boarded up drainage pipe to his left. Well, normally it was boarded up. It looked like somebody had pulled a few of the boards back, tossing them into the makeshift moat. The Engineer splashed through the waist-deep water, poking his head into the pipe. It was dark, quiet. If there were a place to hide, then this might be it.

The Engineer was timid as he continued his investigation. "Mundy? You in here?"

There was a noise from deeper within, something rough dragging against the walls of the pipe. He continued his approach, more hesitant as the pipe dimmed. He stepped into something soggy. Collected around his ankles were the remains of somebody's pants. Okay, this was getting strange. He continued sloshing around, kicking a pair of boots out of the way. What the hell was the Sniper doing? This was certainly no time to go swimming. Or skinny dipping.

"I could really use an answer. Anybody down here?" The Engineer plodded through the pipe, sliding through fallen leaves and years of collected gunk. Oh, this was disgusting. No wonder it had been cordoned off. He turned around a junction, forcing himself to go further. If he came to the other side and nothing was there, then so be it. This felt right, though. Why else would the Sniper's clothes be down here?

It was when he almost reached the other end of the pipe that he saw the Sniper's head. He was leaned against the woodwork blocking the pipe's exit. The Engineer didn't know what to make of it. Was he asleep? He panicked—what if the Sniper was ill? What if he'd fainted down here? He splashed towards the prone form.

Then he stopped, his body freezing in terror.

There was something wrong with the Sniper's skin. He could only see the slightest bit of it from the light coming outside. Small, sharp plates had broken through what was once softer human skin. The Engineer's jaw dropped, petrified with horror. He tried going forward, his body moving with jilted, icy shocks. His feet brushed against a strong mass of muscle and bone, the skin on it scaled in a black and tan pattern. As it wrapped around his ankle, the Engineer's guts threatened to leap out of his throat. Oh, lordy lordy. That was a tail. That was a big, twisty snake tail. Geez, when had that thing manifested? Must have been after he drove here this morning. There was no way he could drive like this. This process must be slow, excruciating. No wonder why he'd taken to hiding.

The Engineer wasn't sure whether or not the Sniper was being friendly when he started to wind his tail around his ankles. His tail. He couldn't get over how weird that was. "M-mundy? Gonna ask that ya stop that." The Engineer's voice cracked.

He didn't get a vocal response from the Sniper, but the tail unhooked from his boots. The Australian turned his head towards the Engineer. It was hard to tell how the transformation had changed his face in the dim light, but the Texan could see smaller scales peeking over sharp cheek bones. It looked like he still had some hair left on his head, but it was forced in odd directions by the scaled growths. It was strange to see his eyes mostly normal behind his sunglasses, rounded like a human's but completely black. He had a handkerchief, probably to hide what had happened to his mouth. The Engineer frowned, his hands shaking. He had to know.

He tried to keep the Sniper calm. "I need ta take a look at ya. Just—just settle down." He raised his hands towards the Australian's face. The Sniper pulled away from him, his eyes wide. He was probably just as scared as the Engineer was of what had happened to him. The Texan steeled himself, placing his hands behind the Sniper's head. He picked at the knot binding the bandanna, the Sniper panicking as he set about his work. The Engineer stopped for a moment. No, that wasn't normal, human panic. That was—

"Gaah!" The Engineer yanked his left arm back. The Sniper had bitten his arm, the injury sharp and hot. As he backed away from the Sniper, the Australian tried digging his way through the boarded up pipe exit. The Engineer's heart jolted. He was trying to escape? From him? He wasn't the fellow with the razor-sharp bite.

The Engineer grabbed the Sniper by his tail. "Don't. Come on! I can fix ya, but only if—argh!"

Okay. So, it hadn't been a brilliant idea to grab a biting, snarling serpent. Point taken. Still, it was a bit excessive for the Sniper to wheel around and try to bite him again. He managed to catch the terrified man by his throat, pinning him down with his robotic right hand. The Sniper wasn't one to let that sort of action go, even if he was ill. His tail wrapped around the Texan's leg. A sharp squeeze toppled the Engineer. The Sniper flipped him into the pipe's floor, hissing with fright. His handkerchief was gone, lost in the struggle. The Engineer balked, his jaw dropped at the sight. The Sniper's own jawbone was completely changed, his widened mouth now ending less than a couple of inches away from his ears. His teeth were now full-fledged fangs, hooked and curled back.

The Engineer gasped, his struggles stilling. "Oh, oh no. Oh, Mundy. I—I'm—"

There must have been a last minute flare of humanity in the Sniper's brain. He scrunched up his face, thin lips exposing every new tooth. A strange sound escaped his damaged throat, almost like a strangled cry. He returned to scratching the planks loose, pushing them aside with a burst of frenzied energy. What surprised the Engineer was when he pulled him out, his tail propping the Texan upright. The Sniper pushed him onto a dock, leaving him next to a vial of medical gel. He took one more glance at the Engineer, pained and bewildered, then escaped back through the pipes.

He should have gone after the disturbed Sniper, but the struggle had frightened him. There was something human left in his friend, but it was mixed up with confused, quarreling animal instincts. The Engineer took the time to use the gel, cleaning the burning wound as best as possible. He had to hide this from the Medic. God have mercy on that bastard if the Medic ever found the Sniper like this. Not that the doctor would have hurt him by any means, but he would have been poked and prodded nonstop, like any boy with a captured animal.

His return to the Scout was silent and slow, the walk spent staring at his reflection in the puddles and trying to forget the horror that he'd just witnessed. It didn't take much time to come up with a lie. All he had to say was that he didn't find the Sniper. He wished that was the case, now that he'd seen what his teleporter had done. No, his negligence. His stupidity. Something painful surged behind his eyes, but the Engineer forced it away. He had to keep his composure until he could fix this.

Nobody needed to see him like that.

* * *

><p>The Spy was mildly surprised by what the Engineer told him. "Come again?"<p>

"There was an accident with the teleporters. It's—well, it's—" The Engineer struggled to form sentences. He tried to get his point across with a fresh topic. "Ya seem ta like yer dirty mags pretty well, don't ya?"

"I didn't come along on zis joy ride to be insulted." The Spy crossed his arms.

The Engineer shook his head. "I meant nothin' of the sort. Just—well, do ya have the Playboy from June of fifty-seven?"

The Spy smiled. Ah, yes. He remembered that one. "Carrie Radison, was it not?"

The Engineer nodded. "Now, I'm not tryin' to insult ya or anythin', but ya do read the short stories, don't ya? The articles 'n all?"

"Yes, but—oh, of course." The Spy was a master of reading between the lines. "Zer was a short story, was zer not? A teleporter accident causes ze body of a man to be combined with that of a fly's. And a house cat too, if I remember correctly."

"That's right." The Engineer took a deep breath, his next sentence stinging as it rolled off his tongue. "Now, imagine that, but with the Sniper and a common kingsnake."

The Spy's jaw stopped in mid-air. That certainly drew a battery of images. He leaned back into his seat, trying to get a clear picture. "What are we talking here? Bits and pieces mixed randomly? Half of one, and half of ze ozzer?"

"It's—well, mostly half and half. He's got scales all over, but—well, he's kind of human up top. Can't speak, though. Reckon that's 'cause of the jaw changes he's had, but I don't know for sure." The Engineer shook his head. This was like describing a nightmare. He focused on the road ahead, turning towards Sawmill's location. He hated having to leave the Sniper out there all alone, but there was nothing he could have done at the time. Not with that pesky Scout wanting to be bussed about.

"I see." The Spy pondered this information for a moment. An annoying twitch built in the back of his throat. He could use a cigarette, but now was not the time. If he had to stomp around some mud-hole with a neurotic, jittery Texan, he needed to have his lungs clear. And if he had to kill a monster that was half Australian and half serpent—well, he could use as much strength as he could get. "So, you are going to kill him because—"

The Engineer patted his breast pocket. "Got a copy of him from a couple of days ago. I pop this into our respawn computer, and then we reset him. Good as new."

Reset him. What a casual, friendly way to talk about committing homicide. The Spy enjoyed it. "Well, zen. Let us be merciful, non?"

It was pouring by the time the duo reached Sawmill. God only knows how the rest of New Mexico could be so dry, and yet it was always raining here. The Engineer unlocked their base, quickly setting to work with their computers. The Spy spent his time playing with knives, wondering what he was about to witness. Words could carry only so much strength. Actually seeing this beast in the dark of the night, in rain and lightning—that would be a spectacular event. It was too bad he didn't pack his miniature camera.

The Engineer exchanged the floppy disk from his pocket with the one in the computer. He placed the other on the console next to him as he continued his work. The respawn machine hummed away happily, reading the new data with the same leisurely pace as a human might read a trashy romance novel on the beach. He tapped his left hand against the computer, reading its output for any errors. He sighed when the screen came back with a clear message, the text glowing green with pride. There. Easy part done.

As the Engineer selected his load-out, the Spy mocked him. "What are you going to do, laborer? Build a sentry and hope he stands in front of it?"

"Don't be flippant, Spy." The Engineer grabbed a pistol and a shotgun, hesitating over which wrench to take. He decided against all of them, ditching the yellow glove he used to shield his robotic appendage. He'd need that arm for leverage against the Sniper. How strong would he be now? How far would his transformation go? What if there was nothing left of him but a small, slender serpent? The Engineer shook his head, trying to get the image of a tiny, defenseless creature pleading for its life out of his head. This was not going to be the case. This was going to be him blasting the hell out of his friend. That didn't help at all.

The Spy drew the Engineer out of his shell. "And what of zis?" He picked up the removed floppy disk with the Sniper's corrupted data on it.

"Just leave it there. I'll lock the place up before we go." The Engineer sighed. He knew the Spy meant well, but he was being a righteous pain tonight.

"Please." The Spy gave him a derisive snort. He placed it in his suit jacket's internal pocket. "You let your guard down for one second. See what my counterpart would do with one of zees on his side."

The Engineer let it slide. The Frenchman was just trying to watch his back. He opened the base door to the rain and the cold, letting the Spy slip out first. He locked the door behind him, then took a deep breath. Lightning crackled above him, taunting him with a rolling laugh. Bastard sky. Lucifer must have been at the controls.

The Spy tapped the Engineer on the shoulder. He was already hot on the Sniper's trail. It looked like he must have come out of wherever he went to hide after the Engineer scared him out of the pipes. There was a trail cut into the muddy path. It was shaped like an s, winding up the hill and towards the docks where the Sniper had left him. The duo followed his path. He left mud on the docks, kicking up dirt as he slithered to his next destination. He also left a dissected rabbit corpse, only partially eaten.

"Zat's disgusting." The Spy's noise twitched upwards, abhorred by the scene.

The Engineer, in a strange turn of mood, smiled. "Looks like he didn't swallow it whole."

"Oh goody, pardner. Next you'll be telling me he used cutlery, too." The Spy remained repulsed. "Perhaps he can tell ze difference between a dinner fork and a salad fork."

The Engineer shook his head. The Frenchman was being obtuse on purpose. "Part of him's still human."

The Spy laughed through his nose. "And zat part decided to kill a harmless little bunny rabbit. It's obvious why you are a laborer and not a barrister."

If anything was clear, it was that the Spy was just rubbing salt in his wounds. He grumbled, leaving the corpse behind. He knew he was getting closer. The trail was fresher, firmer in the rain. It wound around the opposite team's base, curling back into their team's territory once more. What was he doing? Did he think the match was still going? The last of his trail wound into the intelligence room, the back door scratched open. It seemed like an awful place to hide, with water standing at least three inches tall in some places. Then again, the Sniper had spent most of the day hiding in a drainage pipe. Maybe the water was comforting to him.

The Engineer opened his mouth, preparing to call to the Sniper. The Spy placed his hand over the Engineer. He raised a finger to his lips. Of course. That Spy wanted to sneak up and end the Sniper's torment without giving away their position. The Engineer felt dumb for thinking that he could simply tell the Sniper about their plan, execute it, and be better off. Perhaps he was looking for his friend's humanity too hard. Maybe he should have treated him more like a monster.

No. That was wrong, too.

The two of them peaked into the basement of the intelligence room. There, tucked into the corner of two dirt walls, was the Sniper. His tail was fuller, longer than the Engineer recalled. His upper body had lost mass, though. It was as if his human side was surrendering to the beast mixed in his gene pool and atoms. He had wrapped himself into his tail, sleeping with his head buried into it. The Spy's eyes flashed with surprise, but he made no comment. The Engineer felt a shiver run through his arms, frightened and elated to have found the Sniper again.

The Spy nudged the Engineer's shotgun. Oh, sure. Between the two of them, the Spy could kill the Sniper in the quickest, most efficient way. Never-the-less, this was his mess. It was his job to relieve the Sniper of this horror. He raised his shotgun, drawing a deep breath. He could do this. Just a couple of shots. It was going to be messy, but—but—

The Engineer lowered his gun. No. Not like this. The Spy snapped his fingers at him, cracking his wrists upright. He mouthed a question, asking rather rudely what the Engineer's problem was. The Engineer stepped back, signaling the issue by pointing at his eyes, then at the Sniper below. The Spy didn't get a clear read on that, so he peeked into the basement. His gaze was greeted by a black, narrowed glare and sharp fangs snarling from the pit.

The Sniper was wide awake, and he was not a happy camper.

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note:<span>

Meh, weaksauce cliffhanger is weaksauce.

Again, I have no idea why I am so motivated to write this. Going to have to go with the Apple Jacks clause. And not the one about the pony.

Why do I write about Playboy Magazine so much in my Team Fortress 2 stories? This has to be the third time I've brought it up.


	3. Chapter 3

The Engineer expected the Sniper to tear him apart. Constrict him. At least fight him, in some sense. He forgot that he was dealing with what was mostly an animal. A very flighty animal. The Sniper gave both the Spy and him a warning hiss, then bolted further into the dark, damp basement. That powerful tail gave him quite a bit of speed. He pushed towards the front door, scratching and slamming following his escape.

The door to the intelligence room would hold him in place. Just long enough to—well, long enough to fix him. That was a better way to think of what the Engineer had to do. He signaled to the Spy, bobbing his right hand twice. "Stay put. If he tries to run again, stop him."

The Spy clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Oh sure, laborer. Because I am known for my brute strength and my animal magnetism."

He could have pistol-whipped the Spy in the back of his head, but the Engineer had bigger fish to fry. Well, not exactly like that. Close enough. He stumbled into the pit, steadying himself as he slid down the muddy hill in the back of the intelligence chamber. Low lights and the exit sign lit the flooded compartments, computers running without purpose. The Engineer bolted towards the main entrance to the intelligence room. The Sniper must have heard him splashing about, but he was so focused on tearing through the wooden door that he didn't react.

The Engineer bounded around the corner towards the right of the room, throwing his back against a boarded up door. His breath caught in his throat. The Sniper's black and tan tail trailed half-way down the stair well, curling around itself in a nervous knot. He turned to face his executioner, an exasperated expression on his thin lips. Did he remember what a gun was? Did he know what the Engineer was going to do? Guilt snapped strings in the Engineer's heart. He felt his constitution melt into mush.

The Texan raised his shotgun. "You'll be okay. Trust me."

Maybe the Sniper would have given the Engineer the benefit of the doubt. The terrified, writhing snake that his friend had transformed into did not. He lunged down the stairs, the tail flinging him forward with a coiled spring. The sudden burst frightened the Engineer. He fired off two rounds. The first one completely missed the Sniper, rushing through the space where he had been just one moment ago. The second struck him in that beautifully patterned tail, about where his thighs used to be.

He didn't get a chance to fire a third shot.

There was an array of blistering pains blazing around his neck. The Engineer gagged, thrashing as best as he could. The Sniper had him by the throat, teeth clamping deeper into his arteries every time he moved. There was no way he could cry for help, no way to yell at the possessed animal at his jugular. He didn't realize that the Sniper's tail was around him until he tried to move his right arm. It was like being struck by lightning in a fleshed form. He attempted kicking, but his boots splashed worthlessly in the murky water, his knees locked in odd angles. More splatters echoed through the basement, but it didn't come from the Engineer. His body felt heavy, his lungs compressed and empty. The world went dark, black as his friend's cold, unmoving eyes.

The Sniper was slow to unhook his fangs from the Engineer's lifeless body. He reeled backwards, studying the corpse wrapped in his tail and slowly disappearing. It wasn't something he could eat. He wasn't hungry, anyway. There was a strange sensation in his brain, something like panic, but not as sharp. The animal part of him couldn't recognize it, so it tossed the feeling aside. The small flicker of humanity left in his brain knew it, a dull pain throbbing in his chest. Sorrow. Remorse. Regret. Having little control over his instincts and no way to express this sensation, the human surrendered to the animal's whims and turned away, trying once more to escape through the front door.

Then something stepped on his tail.

The serpent reeled around, trying to find the new intruder. There was nothing in the basement. He panicked again, slithering away from the spot where the unseen enemy touched him. There were dozens of senses to process outside of the vestigial human emotions. Dripping water. Flickering lights. A spicy musk. The human remembered that smell, but the animal did nothing outside of its terrified thrashing. There was a monster here.

And then sharpness!

A balisong pierced the snake's back, sliding easily through the extended vertebrae and into organs. The human remembered this feeling, the shadow's deception that routinely took his life. The serpent wheeled around, trying to see through damaged eyes. All they saw in the last few stills of life were leather shoes, immaculately tailored and trimmed. A voice mocked him as he writhed in pain, something exotic and nasal. "I've bought clothes made out of better skin than yours, filthy bushman."

The Spy smiled at the slain beast at his feet. He wondered if that creature even know who had finished him off. He popped a cigarette loose from his PDA, inhaling deeply. Oh, he'd earned this one. He smoked alone in the intelligence room, waiting for the short little Engineer to slosh back from his respawn point. Unfortunately for him, the human part of the Sniper's body was picked up before he returned to the place where he had died. However, it did leave that lovely tail and mutated parts after its salvaging. Perhaps he'd been too quick in dismissing making a belt out of that snake.

Awkward splashing and huffing echoed in the intelligence room. The Engineer gasped, clutching a hand over his lungs. "Did ya—oh, Lord almighty!"

"What do you zink? I have a pair of shoes zis could go with." The Spy picked up the end of the tail, giving it a little shake.

The Engineer didn't take the time to chastise the Spy. He bolted out of the intelligence chamber, eager to return his team's respawn point. The Spy followed him at a leisurely clip, chuckling as the Texan struggled to unlock the door. The Engineer bounded up wooden steps, almost crashing as he burst into the safe room on the second floor. He rolled the door up, his organs hammering every which way in his chest.

The sound that escaped his throat was a broken laugh, half a joyful cry and part raucous chuckling. The Sniper had ripped his boots off, his socks chucked across the room. He was studying his feet, looking them over with an awestruck expression. His toenails were clean, soft hair prickling out of his big toes. The skin on his heels was tough and cracked from years of abuse. He smiled, teeth pointed but normal.

"Never thought I'd miss 'em so much." The Sniper shook his head, laughing hard enough to hurt his stomach.

Screw the Spy's condescending glare. Screw dignity. The Engineer grabbed the Sniper around his shoulders, roaring with glee. He knocked the Australian's slouch hat aside, rubbing his knuckles against the squirming man's head. The Sniper fought back, but with a playful shout of his own. He was awkward on his legs, tripping over himself as he tried to tackle the Engineer. That drew another powerful round of laughter.

The Engineer pulled his goggles away from his face, his eyes small but bright. "Son, I don't know how yer gonna make it out the door like that."

"Just watch me." The Sniper pushed himself off the ground, walking with a leaned sway towards where he had tossed his boots. He picked up his socks and footwear, tucking the cotton garments into his soles. He wiggled his toes against the cool tile floor, grabbing his hat from the bench along the walls. "I'm goin' barefoot for the rest of the night!"

The Spy gritted his teeth, his smoking the only thing keeping him from pinching both of their heads off. "Fine. Get a plantar wart, why don't you? Sounds like fun, bushman."

"Now, Spy. Just keep calm. You wanted to come here, after all." The Engineered turned his attention back to the Sniper. "Think you can drive home? I know it's asking a lot right now, but—"

"But nothin'! Just watch me!" With grace rivaling any deer's, the Sniper stumbled over his ankles. He laughed, catching himself on his knees. The Engineer sighed. He pulled the Sniper upright again, helping him walk down the stairs. Well, maybe he could do it. He didn't need to have that much balance to operate that brick he called a home.

The drive back to the base was a little slow at first. The Sniper was a bit awkward with the accelerator for a while, but he settled into a steady clip. The Spy made for poor company on the drive back, but the Engineer couldn't blame him. After all, he ended up doing the Engineer's dirty work. That certainly wasn't fair.

When they arrived at the barracks, the Engineer had the Sniper pull off to the side of the garage. No way he was letting that lead foot try and park in there tonight. He dropped the Spy off beside the porch in the front of the base. No need to have him go through his dingy garage again. He hopped out of his truck, straightening his tie and huffing a discontented sigh.

The Engineer gave him a somber expression. "Thanks fer yer help, Spy."

The Spy rolled his eyes. "Let's not do zis again, laborer."

He had no idea how he was able to sleep that night. Every few minutes, the Engineer would wake up and look outside his window. He could easily see the garage and the back end of the van nestled next to it. He should have felt guilt, knowing why it wasn't tucked away, but a swell of relief kept his mind at ease. His internal alarm got him up early the next morning. It wasn't long before he was in the kitchen, fine-tuning an orange juice squeezer and making coffee. He might have been running on a serious high, but coffee didn't hurt, either.

It didn't take long for the Sniper to stumble into the kitchen as well. Bastard's blood was at least twenty-five percent coffee at any given time. They exchanged smiles, then split up breakfast duties. The whole base was going to be up in a little while, and it didn't hurt to have a few eggs scrambled and some bread toasted ahead of time.

"Morning."

Well, now. The Spy was up, too. The Engineer figured out of the three of them, he'd want to sleep in the longest. Not that the Sniper wasn't beat from what had happened to him, but he was a bit of a morning person. The Spy was like a cat, lounging about in the sun until the time came from him to clean his claws.

The Sniper was quick to greet him. He grabbed the Spy by his right hand, giving it a good shake. "Don't think I properly thanked ya last night, mate."

The Spy lifted an eyebrow. "Thanked me for…"

"Ya don't have to be hush-hush. Just Dell 'n me here." The Sniper beamed, his face rosy.

"If zis is a new game, I do not know ze rules. You will have to explain it to me." The Spy reached for his coffee cup, pouring himself some of the brew. It wasn't his favorite, but it was palatable.

The Engineer scratched the back of his head. "Ya know. Last night. When we went out to Sawmill?"

The Spy cocked his head to the side, like a confused dog. "Gentlemen, I do not know what either of you are talking about."

"Yesterday. We went to Sawmill to switch out floppy disks on a count of the Sniper's—" The Engineer stopped before he continued his first thought. Surely, the Spy would have remembered taking that floppy disk and killing the Sniper. Especially that last part. His brain snapped into place, realizing that the Spy wasn't having an acute case of amnesia.

He slammed his robotic fist into the countertops. "That cheaten' sonnova bitch!"

* * *

><p>"Zink you can use zis, laborer?"<p>

The Engineer's doppelganger gave his Spy a dark grin, eyeing the floppy disk in his fingers. "Disguise number eleven? You're gettin' greedy, Spy."

The enemy Spy smirked. "What can I say? I know what I like when I see it."

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span>:

That ending might have been a bit of an asspull, sure. But I think I tipped my hand on it early enough. The Spy did warn the Engineer, after all…Of course, it falls apart if you think the "You will respawn" screen is actually visible by the dead characters, but I think it makes for some dramatic fun.

Yeah. That's right. That's the ending. Ta-daa!

If you don't know what disguise number ten is, I think you need to go read Brisbane Roll. Just sayin'. Assuming you haven't rage quit at the ending, of course.

Some may say I should have written another chapter in Double Feature on Halloween. Maybe. Maybe. But you will have to tell me your opinion on that subject.


End file.
